Beyond The Waves
by VioletVendetta363
Summary: Finnick's mind began to wander off to faraway lands, so he drew closer to her, intoxicated by her scent, the salty, curious scent of none other than the sea itself. She was like the sea to him, gently flowing with grace, a silently moving beauty. His hands searched for her fingers, and then when he found them, she didn't hesitate or try to run away. She was fascinated by his eyes.


**Hi everyone, this is just a little oneshot that I wrote when I was camping (which was why there weren't any chapter updates those days...sorry :'() I thought it was pretty good for a first draft so I decided to upload it to share it with you guys. :) I hope you like it.**

Finnick and Annie: Beyond the Waves

The skies were dark and thunder rumbled in the distance while a lone raft floated, bobbing silently on the surface of the water, occasionally rocking side to side, as the waves in the sea began to stir. The raft had no paddle, rudder, or really anything to change its course; it fearlessly let the sea carry it whatever which way it pleased, with no real destination in mind.

On the raft, there was no one except one young man, nearing his twenties, with golden bronze curls, messy and naturally windblown, from constantly watching on bare, high cliffs, even in the roughest of weather. His eyes were fascinating, being the exact color of the sea when it was loveliest; brilliant green, translucent, radiantly gleaming from the sun's rays and deliciously warm from the summer's haze. But his usual dazzling white smile was gone, lips pulled tight into a slight frown, eyebrows knit together as his eyes darkened with the sea's currents. The man's name was Finnick Odair and presently, he was hopelessly lost, in his own world.

From the outside, all anyone could feel was envy for his handsome looks and flawless physique. He seemed to be out of some kind of fairy-tale, a Prince Charming, a knight in shining armour, riding on a magnificent white horse, thrown roughly into harsh reality, with no idea where he fit in the world. He put on quite a believable charade, smiling happily, seductively, at his many one-sided lovers (their self-proclaimed love) and fans, always making jokes, seeming like a joyful, easy-going guy with a good sense of humor. But on the inside, it's a whole other story.

Most of his thoughts are shrouded in darkness, never seeming to let him forget the pain, the hurt, which never ceased to follow him, wherever he went. Finnick needed to be careful, cautious, for one wrong step and then- He winced as the sudden scenes forced themselves into his mind.

The sharp snap of ropes being brutally whipped across his father's back, drawing blood, and his weathered face contorted into a weak grimace, twisted in pain.

His mother's frail body, pale white, unmoving, strewn across the kitchen floor of the house, hand grasping bloodied shards of glass, lips wet, swollen purple, glistening with rat poison.

His younger brothers, with their hands and feet chopped off, bodies frozen stiff, still, jolted from when they were forcefully thrown into bitterly cold shower stalls to be mercilessly electrocuted until their bodies collapsed, falling motionlessly to the floor, stunned, immobile. The showers ran red as blood pooled around them, lying, bodies deathly paralyzed, minds severely petrified.

Finnick's entire body convulsed in abrupt shock and discomfort as he threw his head back and vomited painfully in into the sea, all blood and spit because he hadn't eaten for days. He had shown the world his true self. And the price, well let's just say President Snow couldn't have been happier to oblige. The events hadn't actually happened. Well, at least not _that_ brutally.

Tracker-jacker poison. It had driven him to the point of insanity. It ate and gnawed at his mind like termites. His heart grew cold, stiff with ice. His soul knew no refuge, no escape to the constant tortured images permanently imprinted into his mind. There was a battle deep inside of him. And he knew he couldn't win.

Finnick was nearing an island, to his dismay, for all he wanted was to sail the seas forever until it led to his sorrowful, quiet death, deep in the waves, the dark depths of despair. Sharp rocks protruded around the island, jutting out like irregular knives, and Finnick prayed to the heavens, that the storm may grow worse, grow rough, violent, so it could send him crashing to his death in the rocks. But the sea remained relatively calm, steady, for it was an evil one, not wanting Finnick to gain such an easy escape for what he did, wanting him to hurt longer, for that was the price of his foolish decision to show the world his true self.

His raft knocked gently against the rocks and Finnick grimaced, reluctantly getting out and stepping off, walking being just a simple movement of the body, as he stepped aimlessly towards refuge in the trees. Then a distant figure caught his eye.

A woman. A woman with long dark, wind woven curls falling below her waist, strolled slowly by the shore. She seemed to watch the sea, yet also watch the sky, seeming to find some invisible line, some thread connecting the two together joining the heavens to the waters. Sometimes her delicate white fingers seemed to reach towards the sun, hidden behind the cloak of gray clouds. The woman seemed to be constantly staring into the horizon, as if waiting for something to happen.

Without realizing it, he seemed drawn to her, and he found her seeming to be getting closer to him, even though she still walked the opposite direction, and then he notices it; he is following her. Finnick's eyes never leave her dark lustrous hair, and occasionally he gets a glimpse of her mysteriously yearning deep green eyes. She is beautiful, in her own way, wild, free, like the wind in the mountains.

When she turns, and sees him, her widened eyes show sudden alarm, but then she calms and continues to walk, singing softly, a mournful tune under her breath. Her body moves so gracefully, as if she is dancing, but her legs move so naturally, it's as if she doesn't notice at all. Her dress is of messy seaweed knotted clumsily; clinging to her like a fish's net, but even the unkempt ugliness of her clothes couldn't hide her beauty. Her feet were small, white like her fingers, with several cuts like knives dug into her skin, and some were still fresh, yet she walked as if completely unharmed.

Finnick's mind began to wander off to faraway lands, so he drew closer to her, intoxicated by her scent, the salty, curious scent of none other than the sea itself. She was like the sea to him, gently flowing with grace, a silently moving beauty. His hands searched for her fingers, and then when he found them, she didn't hesitate or try to run away. She led him deep into the foliage of the trees, into a cave and she just watched him curiously, seeming to be intensely fascinated by his eyes.

Even in the dim light, she was still dangerously beautiful, her dark eyes searching his, for answers to all her questions. They seemed to converse silently, seeming to understand everything about each other, simply by looking into their eyes. His eyes showed sadness and regret. Hers showed freedom, but loneliness. They both chased after the stars, wanting to reach the sun. But with their true selves hidden deep in the thickets of their hearts, it was a long chase to behold.

"Should I say something?" Finnick asked, so quietly, mostly to himself. He felt vulnerable after asking, yet it was so painful to dwell in a place so cold and soundless for so long.

"There is no need. I can understand you without anything needed to be said," She replied.

Her voice was like the seasons, it held the bitter frost of winter, the life of spring, the warmth of the summer and the death of fall. It was enchanting, and he bet that her singing voice could be level to the sirens on the rocks.

"Well, I feel the need to converse-

"I can understand your silence. It is not unlike mine,"

"Would it be okay if I spoke anyway?" He asked, rather afraid, for she seemed fierce, icy and he didn't want her to suddenly snap at him ferociously.

"Go on ahead," She said softly, voice calming to the purr of a kitten. Her sudden intense coldness seemed to melt away, like magic.

"I've always felt strange, cold, foreign, when I was around people, but now I feel so suddenly different, so natural, like you are different from those other people. You seem gentle, soft, yet wild and free, unlike anyone I have ever known,"

She smiled effortlessly and leaned in close, so their noses almost touched. Finnick was hit by sudden intense desire to hold her close, to take her as his own.

"Of course. I am Annie. I am of the sea. And so are you,"

That night Finnick dreamed of his fingers in her hair, his lips nipping at the soft lobe of her ear, her fingers softly stroking his cheek. Suddenly his faults, his mistakes didn't feel so horrible, like he could make amend, someday, somehow. He felt happy for the first time in a long while.

He had found her.

He had found his sea.

He had found his missing piece.

And he would never leave her.

Ever.


End file.
